


Wake Up, Now

by Sapphic_Futurist



Series: Sapph's Anti-Soulmate Kinktober Fills 2020 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anti-Soulmate Kinktober 2020, Consent Issues, Dark, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt No Comfort, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphic_Futurist/pseuds/Sapphic_Futurist
Summary: Steve searched Tony's eyes, enunciating each word carefully to ensure there was no possibility of miscommunication. “You want me to fuck you. In your sleep. While you’re having a nightmare?”A grin spread across Tony’s face. “Yep, that’s what I’m saying. At least try it before you say no. Just imagine it, Steve.” Tony slid across the mattress towards him, resting his hand on one of Steve’s thighs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to the soft spot below Steve’s ear. “Think about it. You can have me. Do whatever you want to me. Help me.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Sapph's Anti-Soulmate Kinktober Fills 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968322
Comments: 38
Kudos: 93
Collections: Anti Soulmate Kinktober 2020





	Wake Up, Now

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 16  
> Prompt: Somnophilia
> 
> This idea has been dancing around in my brain for a while and Kinktober felt like the perfect place to put it. Please note the tags, and as always, if you have additional tagging suggestions for the content in this story please drop me a note in the comment. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Enjoy!

As Steve walked into the now-foreign space of their bedroom he struggled to shake the feeling that he was a trespasser here. The sound of his breath was too loud in the quiet expanse of the room. After so many weeks in Wakanda he hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d returned to the Compound, but relief washed over him in slow, stunted waves. 

FRIDAY had greeted him moments before with a moderate tone of resentment, and Steve assumed he deserved that much. Tony had every right to still be angry and FRIDAY, by extension, was entitled to her anger as well. The familiar reminder that, _Artificial Intelligence does not experience human emotions, Steve_ , came to mind and Steve smiled in spite of himself.

The room he and Tony had shared for months was dark now, lit by a sliver of light spilling through the slit in the curtains. Everything was exactly as Steve remembered, with all of his old belongings scattered across one side of the room. His radio was still on the nightstand and the sweater he’d been wearing on his last day at the Compound remained in a discarded heap on the desk chair in the corner.

Steve glanced towards the bed, taking in Tony’s pale frame as he slept.

He was lying on his stomach, face turned away from the window in a wild sprawl across the sheets. Like an octopus, Tony had gathered the blankets and pillows into his arms, clutching them in his sleep and Steve’s chest twinged with a familiar ache when he realized all the pillows Tony had wrapped himself around were from Steve’s side of the bed.

Maybe they still smelled like him. Steve hoped, anyway.

Some of the blankets had tangled around Tony’s ankles, snaking over one of his hips and otherwise leaving him bare. The smooth porcelain of his back curved into the pert slope of his backside and Steve could have stood there for hours, watching the rhythmic pattern of his breathing.

Tony had always been perfect like this. Asleep, when he was peaceful and vulnerable, and Steve had cherished every moment of their time together. Seeing him so close now left Steve aching, the tips of his fingers tingling with the urge to reach out and stroke a hand over all that soft, scarred skin. 

The first time Tony had let him stay the night had been a gift.

For weeks leading up to that night, they had tumbled into bed together, hands frantic in a race to learn each other’s bodies. But no matter how exhausted Steve had been after, sweat and blissed out, Tony would ask him to go. He’d all but begged Steve to leave.

“Nightmares, Steve,” Tony’d said by way of excuse, shoving at Steve’s hip to get him moving. “Not pretty. Nobody wants to see that.”

“Tony, it’s fine. We all have them. It’s fine.”

But Tony had always had a difficult time letting Steve in and bit by bit, Steve worked to earn his faith and eventually he had given in. A flower of hope had bloomed in Steve’s chest at the thought that maybe his presence could bring Tony some peace from the night terrors, but when Tony’s thrashing and screaming in his sleep had woken Steve multiple nights in a row, the onslaught of helplessness was crushing. 

The hard-won trust Steve had gained shifted into something else and at first, Steve had been shocked when Tony had proposed an… unorthodox solution to the sleep disturbances. 

“It might help,” he’d said, “you know, when you can’t wake me up?”

The conversation had come after one of the particularly challenging nights, when Steve, horrified, had struggled to wake Tony from whatever he’d been seeing. Shaking his shoulders and trying to tug Tony closer into his arms to rouse him had been fruitless. The screaming had only intensified, with Tony lashing out against him with a violence that bordered on feral. 

“I don’t know, Tony—”

“Just—lets try it and see how it goes. Steve, I trust you.”

Hearing those words from Tony’s mouth had been the biggest gift of all and Steve’s heart soared. Tony trusted him. Finally, after all that time, of showing Tony that there was merit in letting himself fall backwards—that Steve would be there, always—Tony was standing on the cliff’s edge ready to jump. 

Steve had searched his eyes, enunciating each word carefully to ensure there was no possibility of miscommunication. “You want me to fuck you. In your sleep. While you’re having a nightmare?”

A grin spread across Tony’s face. “Yep, that’s what I’m saying. At least try it before you say no. Just imagine it, Steve.” Tony slid across the mattress towards him, resting his hand on one of Steve’s thighs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to the soft spot below Steve’s ear. “Think about it. You can have me. Do whatever you want to me. Help me.”

Steve groaned, gripping Tony at the nape of his neck and forcing his face up for a long, satisfying kiss. If that was what Tony really wanted…

So, on that first night, Steve held Tony close, curled around him as much as he could and listened as his breathing lengthened and Tony drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Hours passed and Steve ran his hand up and down the length of Tony’s back until his fingers were numb, ignoring his growing arousal until his cock was heavy and weeping with anticipation.

Steve was gentle, oh so gentle, when the first hints of a nightmare had started. They’d prepped Tony beforehand to make things simpler, and Steve had been able to slide right into Tony’s body as if it were made only for him.

The incredible, tight heat had been enough to drive Steve wild and he’d come hard enough to see stars, burying himself into Tony’s lax body over and over again. It was mesmerising, the way that Tony came apart beneath his, cock shooting off against the mattress as Steve angled his hips downward to brush every stroke over Tony’s prostate. Even in sleep, Tony’s body called out for Steve’s and found release. 

The whole experience was amazing. Enlightening, even, and it had set the precedent for dozens of nights after where Steve lost himself entirely, greedy in his pleasure as he chased away Tony’s nightmares and kept him safe from his own subconscious.

A desperate whine dragged Steve back from his memories and he jerked his head up. Tony was still asleep, his face contorted against the pillows.

“Tony? Tony, wake up!”

Tony didn’t respond, writhing against the bed as a hoarse cry ripped from his lips and Steve called out his name again. Clamping a firm hand down on his shoulder, Steve tried to shake him awake but Tony’s body fought him off, one arm flailing out to protect himself.

A reflective orange light caught Steve’s attention and, on the nightstand, Steve clocked a small bottle. Sleeping pills.

“Hey, come on now, wake up. You’re alright, Tony. Wake up.” He jostled his shoulder a few more times without success.

Tony had always refused sleeping pills in the past, explaining that they held him captive in his night terrors, making it harder and harder to swim towards consciousness. And, even after he’d woken, the lingering haze of the sedatives made it difficult to discern whether he was truly awake.

Tony’d likened it once to the unnerving in-between he’d experienced in Afghanistan; time lost all meaning as night stretched on like the endless expansion in the cave and the sedation of the sleeping pills created a spectacular form of claustrophobia. A mixture of chemicals and the disturbing realities of his own mind. 

Steve swallowed, weighing his options.

Things had been bad after Siberia. He’d called multiple times and all of the messages went unanswered. When he’d sat down and written the letter, Steve had genuinely expected Tony to call. He’d spent days waiting by the phone, listless and uncertain while Bucky remained suspended in cryostasis and Steve couldn’t—wouldn’t—go home.

He thought maybe Tony’s efforts to have their pardons pushed through had meant something and when the news had broken that the World Security Council was preparing to vote. He had expected to hear from Tony then.

Still, nothing.

That was why Steve was here in the first place. Tony was going to bat for them and that had to count for something.

Surely Tony could understand that what had happened, as awful as it was, hadn’t been anything more than Steve trying to keep both Bucky and Tony alive while simultaneously putting an end to the fighting as quickly as he knew how.

In his rage, Tony was not a rational man and Steve didn’t blame him for attacking Bucky. Hell, he didn’t blame him for the fiasco with the Accords, either. It was a difference of opinion Tony was entitled to, and Steve knew that Tony had been struggling since Ultron; Tony’s judgement had been impaired.

There was still faith to be had that maybe Tony didn’t blame him either.

The man was stubborn, Steve would give him that, but even without hearing from him, Steve knew. Tony still loved him and he still loved Tony. If Tony was too angry to admit that, Steve would keep the faith alive for both of them.

When Tony shuddered again, a grotesque, full body roll, and moaned Steve’s name, Steve’s heart ached for him. The decision almost felt as if it were being made for him. He couldn’t just let Tony suffer, trapped in whatever horrors danced in his mind.

Steve had missed him with an all-encompassing loss and he knew Tony must feel the same. He knew Tony loved him. He knew Tony would still want him to do this for him, just like he always had.

In an effort to calm him, Steve tugged off his gloves and slid a soothing hand down Tony’s spine.

Just the gentle touch, a light stroke of his fingers up and down Tony’s back, was enough for his body to stop struggling. Emboldened, Steve brought one knee to the mattress, half kneeling at Tony’s side and ran his other hand through Tony’s hair to brush it back from his face.

Tony curved into the motion the warmth of welcome spread through Steve. Tony was always such a responsive man, even in sleep. Behind his eyelids, Tony’s eyes flickered from side to side and Steve leaned down to press a kiss to his temple, breathing in the spice of his cologne and the soft undertones of _Tony_.

God, he had missed him.

“You’re okay,” Steve murmured, hands trailing lower until he could peel the blankets back from Tony’s hips. “I’ve got you, Tony. You’re okay. Wake up now, sweetheart.”

Tony still didn’t stir but he was no longer panting, his breath coming easier with just Steve’s hands on his waist so Steve brushed his knuckles over the slope of Tony’s perfect, round ass and savoured the way gooseflesh rose over his skin.

Licking his lips, Steve tried to reign in his desire. It’d been so long since he’d seen Tony, touched him, been near him like this. There was so much they had to talk about.

_After._

“I’m going to take care of you, okay? Just like always, sweetheart. You’re safe, Tony. Wake up, now.”

Fumbling around in the nightstand, Steve tugged out Tony’s preferred brand of lubricant and unbuckled his pants, giving himself a long, lazy stroke before he uncapped the container and liberally coated his fingers. The slick warmed in his palm and with the other hand, Steve spread Tony’s cheeks, letting his fingers find a home in the supple curve of his ass before swiping moisture across his hole and massaging the tight ring of muscles there.

Almost immediately, Tony’s body arched into the touch and Steve bit down on his bottom lip, smiling to himself. He’d have to be gentle with him, it’d been a while and Steve knew he was big. Tony had complained often enough to drill that sentiment home. It had never stopped him from goading Steve on between breathy moans and hands clenched around Steve’s hips to prevent him from pulling back.

“You’re so beautiful, Tony.” Steve slid his legs further apart, kneeling between them and pressing a reverent kiss to the curve of one cheek as he pressed forward with the tip of a finger. Tony’s body yielded without protest, welcoming the familiar touch.

It was easy to lose himself in preparing Tony, taking painstaking care with every curl of his fingers, using this special time to press quiet reminders of how much Steve loved him directly into Tony’s body. It was as much an apology as a silent urge to wake from the nightmares. Steve made due with what he could to chase the bad dreams away.

When Steve had worked three fingers inside him, Tony’s body started to shift restlessly beneath him, signalling he was ready for more. Steve slicked himself up and pressed between his cheeks, holding off taking him as he savoured the slippery glide that left sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.

Steve groaned, resisting the urge to close his eyes.

He didn’t want to miss even a second of Tony’s body welcoming him home.

Pushing forward, Steve breached Tony’s slack body with a bitten-off gasp, sucking in a ragged breath as Tony’s wet heat clenched down around him like a vice. His vision blurred along the edges when he sank all the way into the hilt, fingers digging into Tony’s hips to keep him still as his body shivered and shuddered forward.

Tears threatened behind his eyes. This was what Steve had been waiting for; being joined with Tony again after so long. It was a desperate form of agony he’d never experienced before.

For a moment, Steve paused, trying to steady his thoughts and avoid taking Tony the way he had longed for every lonely night in Wakanda. Steve wanted to _possess_ him, to remind Tony of all the reasons they loved each other and put the horrendous events from Siberia behind them for good.

When he was awake, Steve assured himself. He could have that, too. Later.

Now was about safety. Safety and trust and all the love that Steve had to offer his partner.

As he pulled back and started to thrust forward, Tony’s face went smooth with pleasure. A little whine escaped him and Steve rolled his hips again, hoping he could work his name from Tony’s lips or pull forward one of Tony’s breathy, desperate little sighs.

The muscles in Tony’s back shifted and bunched as Steve urged his body into his lap, lifting Tony effortlessly across his thighs to wrap an arm around his belly. With his face still turned against the pillows, Steve could watch as Tony’s eyelids fluttered again while he slid his palm over the length of Tony’s erection. It wept over his fingers, already a mouth-watering shade of red and begging to be touched.

“Oh, Tony, look at you.” _So responsive. So damned responsive_.

Steve picked up the pace, pumping his hips and tugging Tony back onto his cock with every brush forward. There was something deliciously forbidden about fucking Tony this way, his body reacting purely out of muscle memory, tightening and releasing without explicit permission and Steve felt his self-restraint splitting at the seams.

Fucking into Tony like this left Steve lightheaded, everything in his awareness narrowing down to the way that Tony’s ass clenched around his cock and didn’t want to let him go.

He never wanted to stop. He wanted Tony to wake up coming, eyes rolling back with pleasure and know that _he’d_ given that to Tony again after all this time. 

“Fuck, I love you. I missed you so much, Tony. Wake up, love,” Steve gasped out, flattening a hand over Tony’s lower back and forcing him down into the mattress where his cock could rub up against the sheets.

Tony loved that—waking up in a hot pool of release knowing that he’d come from only the friction of Steve’s cock in his ass, forced to rut up against the sheets. And Steve would give that to him, too.

He’d give Tony anything, everything.

He owed him the entire world.

Fuck, Steve couldn’t think, couldn’t even breath as he forced himself deeper, hurtling towards release like pistons set to full steam ahead. He pictured Tony’s eyes opening, watching him as he fell apart and it was too much.

Tony’s body jostled and pitched forward under his hold as Steve curled over him, letting himself teeter on the edge of release, holding back his orgasm with the sheer force of his will. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to crawl inside Tony and live there forever, a first line of defense against any threat that came their way.

Then, Tony gasped out a breathy moan, barely even a whisper, “Steve!”

And Steve pitched over the edge.

The tension in his core erupted with Tony’s voice ringing in his ears. Everything blurred white for one blissful moment as Tony’s body gripped Steve tight and went tense, quivering as it found release at just the right moment to leave Steve breathless.

Steve claimed him, just like the very first time, fucking hard into him and marking Tony as his. His to love, to protect, even if it meant protecting him from the demons that roamed in his own dreamscape, Steve would be whatever he needed.

Groaning long and low in the back of his throat, Steve let his head drop back, jerking Tony at the hips to meet one last sharp thrust as the orgasm washed away.

Tony was finally coming to, his head jerking up from the pillows and with hazy, dilated eyes as he started to struggle. His unfocused gaze searched over his shoulder until it locked on Steve and awareness settled in.

For a moment, he paused, his mouth dropping open and his fingers constricting further into the sheets. He looked beautiful, sated and blissed out, with pleasure smeared across his face.

But then he was scrambling away, taking the warmth of his body with him as he got tangled deeper into the sheets. Tony gasped and the horrified, broken noise shot through Steve’s chest like a bullet tearing through skin and bone.

Steve reached out a hand as if he could stop him, intending to reassure Tony, to hold him, but Tony was too quick. Tugging the sheets with him, Tony covered his gorgeous body from view, forcing Steve to look up and focus on his face—

His horrified, snow-white face with its wide, betrayed eyes. Every inch of Steve’s body went cold, the release reduced to a distant memory.

“Tony—”

“What were you doing?” Tony tried to demand but the words came out slurred and broken as if his tongue was too big for his mouth. It was almost as if he was hungover, confusion and disbelief rife in his expression.

The sleeping pills.

Oh, _God._

What if Steve had miscalculated? What if he’d, oh, what if he’d—

Steve opened his mouth to offer an answer and found none. Tears were springing to Tony’s eyes and Tony clutched his knees up to his chest, looking small and broken and so painfully foreign from the man that Steve knew. 

This wasn’t what he’d—no, he hadn’t meant to—

“You were having a nightmare!” Steve cried, gesturing wildly to the space between them, the wet sheets and the tips of Tony’s bare toes. “I couldn’t wake you.”

Tony choked on a gasp, one of his hands flying up to cover his mouth. His eyes searched the fabric, taking in the fresh, cooling stains on the bed and he swayed forward slightly, eyes screwing closed as his face contorted into a grimace and the long lines of his throat swallowed again and again. “What did you do?” He asked, hoarse. “Steve, what did you do?”

“I didn’t—”

“Why would you—”

“Tony, please—”

A sob broke free from between Tony’s fingers and Steve could only watch, heart splintering in his chest as his stomach dropped and all of his errors came rushing forward. This wasn’t the reaction he had anticipated.

This wasn’t the Tony that he had wanted, warm and welcoming, thankful and satiated the way he’d been every time before.

This wasn’t his Tony, who trusted him and knew he could keep him safe, even in sleep.

Steve was just trying to help him. Keep him safe!

This wasn’t… he hadn’t…

Steve’s thoughts went blank as Tony started trembling, his body shuddering like a leaf in the gale and another sob escaped him. Tears started to flow down his face and he couldn’t seem to draw a breath, curling in on himself when Steve was the one who wanted to sink through the floor.

“I’m sorry!” Steve exclaimed, finding his voice. “Tony, God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—I didn’t mean to—oh God! Please believe me, I had no idea that you’d—”

“Get out.” The command was little more than a broken whimper, slipping from Tony’s lips.

Steve reached out for him again but the sheer violence in the way that Tony flinched away from him brought Steve up short. “Tony, _please_ —"

Suddenly, there was just Steve and his hands.

The hands that had touched Tony so many times, loved him and stroked him until he’d been soft and pliant. Hands that had held Tony steady through storms they’d weathered together. Hands that had tickled him until he’d screamed and tossed Tony over his shoulder, holding him secure as he dragged Tony from his workshop and tucked him into bed.

The same hands that he’d used to fight Tony off in Siberia.

The same hands that had held Tony down tonight and _taken_ something from him.

Steve gagged, his body moving of its own accord, carrying him back to the other corner of the bed as he stared at Tony and the distance between them widened like a chasm. Everything they’d had, all the love, all the trust, swirled and contorted into a whirlpool, circling down the drain until all that was left with Steve and his hands, dirty from where they had touched Tony’s sleeping, vulnerable body.

“I didn’t mean to,” Steve forced out, the words like glass in his throat. “Tony, I saw the pills and I couldn’t wake you so I thought—”

“I know what you thought.” Tony ground out, opening wet eyes to glare at him. The sobs abruptly dried up and something cold and flat raced forward to take their place. It was worse, devastating. “You thought you’d just come home like nothing had changed and—” his voice cracked and Steve winced as Tony cleared his throat, visibly steeling himself, “— _fuck_ me when I was unconscious. _Unconscious_ , Steve.”

“Before, when I couldn’t wake you—”

“Before. Yeah, before.” Tony huffed an exhale, a maimed laugh shot through with something that made his next words feel like cruelty. “When I trusted you.” 

Steve crumbled.

If the floor had opened up and called him down to Hell he would have gone willingly. Revulsion and self-loathing churned in his stomach, burning him from the inside out as acid seared at the back of his throat and the weight of his transgressions settled over him.

“I’m sorry!” He shouted, eyes blurring with tears. Tony shook his head, forehead pressed into his forearms, rolling back and forth miserably. “Tony I would never! I didn’t mean to!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony whispered. “You did.”

“Please!”

“Get out.”

“Please, Tony,” Steve begged, desperately trying to determine some course of action.

There had to be something he could say to make this right. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there had to be a plan of what he might do or say to take it all back and start again. He’d waited so long to make this right. This couldn’t be it.

“Please, I never meant—I’m sorry. Let’s just—we can talk about this. I came home so we could talk. So we could fix us.” He hesitated, searching Tony’s face. “Please don’t make me go. Tell me how to make this right. Please, Tony. I’m so sorry.”

There was a long, drawn out silence and when Tony spoke again, it was the final thread snapping. His warm, chocolate eyes turned cold, brown disappearing into a black as opaque as obsidian. “It’s not like I can force you.”

Steve reeled backwards, everything in him trying to reject the weight of what Tony had said. What he meant. What he was _saying_.

He took stumbling steps backwards, putting as much distance between himself and the bed as possible. It seemed that might be the only thing he could give Tony now.

Before Steve could put together a reply, FRIDAY interrupted.

“Should I notify the authorities, boss?” Her voice was toneless.

Tony flinched. “No.”

“Tony—”

“Get _out_ , Steve!” Tony shouted, hurling one of the pillows in his direction. It fell limp and useless onto the floor, halfway between the bed and where Steve was pressed against the doorframe.

He closed his eyes and drew a breath, fumbling for a hand on the doorknob to throw the door open. “Tony I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please believe me. I love you!”

Tony didn’t look up, a hand covering his face with his fingers digging into his forehead. When he didn’t answer, Steve forced his useless legs to move and pushed himself through the door, lingering just outside the entrance. He leaned his head against the wall and listened to the shallow stutter of Tony’s breathing.

He knew he’d waited a beat too long when his enhanced hearing picked up what Tony said next. It was only the smallest hint of a whisper, muffled against skin. “Then why did you do this to me?”

Steve fled.

* * *

The pardons fell through.

Time in Wakanda became slower and meaningless.

Steve never went back to the United States and the blank face of the burner phone he kept by his side mocked him. A constant reminder of his guilt.

When Steve saw Tony again months later, he was emaciated and half-dead on his feet. For a brief moment, Steve felt a glimmer of hope because Tony had come shuffling off the spaceship and stumbled down into his arms.

He’d taken Tony’s meager weight and let Tony rest against him. For just a moment, Steve had held him. 

The fallout came later when resentment and malice dripped from Tony’s lips and played on a torturous loop through for hours afterward.

 _No trust, liar_.

_No trust, liar._

_No trust_ , liar.

When he’d said it, Tony’s eyes had brimmed with an emotion meant only for Steve. It was never about Thanos. It was never about whether they’d won or lost.

It was something Steve could never hope to understand, but in that exact moment, he knew.

Tony had never told a soul about that night at the Compound, and neither would he. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://sapphic-futurist.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Check out the rest of our Kinktober fills here [Anti-Soulmate Kintober Collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Anti_Soulmate_Kinktober_2020/profile).
> 
> If you've a fan of darkfic or gut-wrenching angst, come hangout with us in the [SteveTony Darkfest Server](https://discord.com/invite/X9xaRPT) and check out the Sad Secret Santa event! Write with us!
> 
> Here's a fun [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQbei5JGiT8&ab_channel=BlueSeatStudios), for your reference.


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